open up my eager eyes
by HopelesslyDevoted76
Summary: After moving from Toronto to Barcelona, and now Westchester, Massie Block is ready to situate herself permanently in a warm and welcoming city. Too bad the city does not follow Massie's definition of "warm and welcoming." R&R, please
1. one

**Okay, so, I deleted "Love, Save the Empty"... I just couldn't write anymore about the same story, sorry :(**

**Anyway, this is going to be my winter project (let's hope I can finish this one...)**

**For Darling (dreams of evermore) and Riley (iwillalwaysloveyoux21), two awesometastical people :)**

(-disclaimed-)

* * *

_open up my eager eyes_

William Block, a popular real estate agent, joined a finance in Toronto, Canada. The company grew bigger and more powerful, and shortly, they proffered him a promotion at their sister branch… in Barcelona, Spain. My father, never to pass up on an offer, accepted. When I was seven years old, my family and I packed our belongings and moved to the Spanish city. My dad was soon more prosperous in the European country than he was in Canada, selling trendy, Spanish-style villas.

We have been living in Barcelona for almost eight years. I knew English before I moved here, but I acquired Spanish quickly through easily made friends, who would teach me their native tongue. Although, I did converse with my dad and Kendra, my mother, in English around the house, just to keep the language in my memory.

I remember that sweltering summer day vividly.

_My dad ran into the house after his usual day of work. His eyes, effulgent with joy, searched for my mother and me. He casually walked into the kitchen, still grinning like a boy with a bag of sweets. _

_He sat down at the table and looked at us excitedly. "Guess what?" We signaled him to continue. "I got a promotion!"_

"_¡__Felicidades__!" my mother and I shouted. As we stood to give him a congratulatory embrace, he put his arms up to halt us._

"_Um, the job is in their newest branch… in Westchester County, New York," he said hesitantly._

_I stared at him wide-eyed. "¿En los Estados Unidos?" I screamed. "Dad! I like it here! You can't do this!"_

"_Massie, go upstairs, por favor, I need to talk to your dad." I gave an annoyed screech and marched upstairs, praying that maybe, just maybe, we could stay in Barcelona._

Later in the week, I don't know how, but my parents somehow convinced me to move to America. It was probably all the new stuff they vowed to buy me… Nonetheless, I wasn't exactly thrilled. A fortnight later, our property was sold, our possessions were packed, and our goodbyes were said.

After landing in the John F. Kennedy International Airport, we stayed in a hotel in the Upper East Side and explored the city, which was festooned with bright lights and lush foliage. My dad made many business calls while I shopped with my mother in the prestigious designer boutiques that adorned the streets of Manhattan. They were nothing like the shops in Europe, but they would suffice.

Finally, the home in White Plains in Westchester County that my father's company purchased for us was ready, so we traveled to the city and settled in our new estate.

Summer in New York was weird and made me uncomfortable. As opposed to the sizzling sun that shone over Barcelona in the summertime, New York had a harsh, inconsistent version. In addition to the heat, New York was also humid, a concept that I was unfamiliar with.

White Plains did not have much excitement during the summer, unlike Barcelona, where children on summer vacation would caper around the streets with sweating frozen treats, while others would play friendly games of football in one of the many available fields in the park. White Plains had a more, elite, luxurious, classy feel to it. No socialite mother would be caught dead with her child running around the street half-naked.

The first week was spent unpacking our many expensive belongings. We also hired decorators to liven up the bland house, something that we assumed common in most houses here. They lacked character, something my dad, as a real estate agent, strived to obtain.

The pallid walls were painted burnt oranges and olive greens, and the wooden doorposts were painted a deep mahogany color. I chose one of many rooms in the lofty estate as my bedroom. I had it painted a medium-tone purple while leaving the crown moldings white. After the alterations were completed, the house looked considerably better.

We hired a live-in made, Inez, to keep the house clean and help my mom with the cooking. Isaac, our new chauffeur, was given the dutiful job of driving me around the town, or more specifically, the mall and the nearest café, which I went to religiously.

We were welcomed into the neighborhood easily. My mom made friends through her new pilates class and her many trips to the Westchester Mall. My dad befriended many of his coworkers and made new golf buddies. Our neighbors occasionally stopped by and introduced themselves, offering us a "welcome to the neighborhood" cake or meatloaf.

My summer wasn't much different than it would have been if I were still in Barcelona. I continued swimming and tanning, shopping, and practicing my football- er, soccer- in our new, spacious backyard.

I haven't made any new friends, though. But what do you expect, me to run up to someone in the middle of the street and ask them to be my friend? No, just no. I was strangely okay with being friendless, as weird as that was.

After about three weeks, July 31st, my birthday, arrived. You know, the usual, I got showered with presents (a new MacBook Pro, one of many gifts), and we went out for dinner. Before I went to sleep, I got a call from two of my friends from Barcelona, Alejandra "Lela" and Juliana "Jules." The second I answered the house phone, they screamed in excitement at the sound of my voice.

"¡Ah! ¡Te echamos de menos!" they screamed incoherently into the phone.

"Miss you too! When can you visit me?" I asked pleadingly.

They laughed. "We have no idea, Mass. Probably not anytime soon." They sighed in unison. "Anyway, ¡feliz cumpleaños! You're 15!"

"¡Gracias! I know!"

"Okay, we have to go because this phone call is muy expensive!" Lela laughed into the receiver.

Jules continued. "But we will talk later!"

"Thanks for calling! Tell everyone I say hi and that I miss them!"

"Bien. ¡Adios!"

"Love you guys!"

-d-

The afternoon sun shone brightly over White Plains. I stepped out onto my balcony and appreciated the weather. It wasn't too hot, nor was it too cold. Perfect soccer weather.

I quickly changed into a sports bra, a plain light blue t-shirt, and black shorts. I laced my Nike cleats and grabbed my FIFA World Cup ball. I stopped by the kitchen and informed my mother of my whereabouts and then I was on my way to the nearest soccer field.

The smell of freshly cut grass awakened my senses and I felt alive once more. I dribbled the ball around the field several times and struck the ball into the goal with ease. I was in my own world, with just the soccer ball and me…

That is, until a dirty-blonde-haired girl approached me.

"Hey, are you knew?" she asked me. I scored another goal, and a perceptible grin grew on her tanned face.

I turned around and faced her. "Yeah, I just moved in this summer."

"Welcome. So, where are you going to school?" she asked spinning her own soccer ball in her agile hands.

"Um, White Plains High School…something like that," I responded as I pushed my long, damp tresses back.

"I assumed so. I was on their soccer team last year, and I'll be on it again this year. You should try out."

"Er, I don't really know…" Although I've been playing soccer ever since I moved to Spain, I was never part of a team.

The susurrus of the wind and leaves filled up the quiet space. Kristen waited until the wind subsided. "Well, at least consider it. Tryouts are going to be held on the third day of school…so, uh, Wednesday." She paused, and her eyebrows rose. "Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot. I'm Kristen Gregory. And you are?"

"Massie Block."

She turned her head back, her blonde hair whipping her face in the process. "Okay, well I have to go. Nice meeting you, Massie! See you at school!"

I waved at her and turned around and faced the goal. I kicked the ball gently into the white goal.

So far, one friend. Not bad.

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**Reviews would be lovely :)**

**Oh, and by the way, this story is open to ANY comments, critics, awards (bahaha), etc.**

**I'm not joking, I don't even have a pairing or anything. I'm just going with the flow.**

**So whatever you want to tell me, leave it in a review and I definitely look and consider it.**


	2. two

**Thank you all so so so much for the reviews, alerts, and even favorites!**

Specifically, I'd like to thank: Lost in the Starlight (name i can't say :)), dreams of evermore (Darling!), Maeve, jasminacha, iwillalwaysloveyoux21 (Riley!), and iheartme104 for **reviewing! **

**Yes, I know I have many fragments and other grammatical errors… And yes, I do like to make up my own words.**

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Don't you hate that feeling when you know all eyes are on you and only you?

Well, that is exactly how I felt on September 3rd, 2010.

-d-

The obnoxious trill of my alarm clock, woke me from my slumber, and sent me flying straight for the hardwood floors. I forced my scarcely clothed body out of the warm comfort of my tangled sheets on the floor and into the frigid air that surrounded me.

Damn you, New York weather. One week you are scorching, the next you are like Antarctica.

So, I need a first day of school outfit. Something cute, that says, "Hey, I know what's hot and what's not," but at the same time said, "I'm not trying to impress you"…even though I was trying to make a good first-impression. This was when they actually counted.

I wasn't entirely aware of the school's student-imposed dress code; I didn't know if the students came in casual attire, dressed in their most expensive garments like it's fashion week, or just slutted it up like they own the place.

I decided on a simple cream-colored chiffon blouse with pearl buttons. I paired it with simple dark wash skinny jeans and patent black oxfords.

Of all days, my hair chose to look like a mess today, one of the most important days of my new life in New York. I decided to position my auburn tresses in a purposely-messy ponytail.

I know it's hard for most 15-year-olds to say, but I actually like my skin. It tans easily but doesn't burn. My face, for the most part, is naturally pimple-free (although I do get the occasional pimple here and there). When it came to makeup, I never found it necessary to put on so much to the point where you are unrecognizable. Unlike many of my trampy friends from Spain, I like keeping it natural, you know? I brushed black mascara onto my already dark eyelashes and lined my waterline with black liner (only halfway though, a trick I learned in Spain. It makes the eyes appear bigger). I also applied a bit of light red lip stain to my lips for an added bit of color.

Once I deemed myself presentable, I lugged my tote-turned-backpack down our wooden stairs. I stopped by the kitchen for breakfast, my usual granola bar and orange juice.

My mother saw me and set down the newspaper. She hugged me tightly and wished me luck. I walked through the front door, only to be greeted by Isaac, who was standing by our new Lexus hybrid, waiting for me.

"Good morning, Miss Block," he greeted politely. I smiled in return. I still couldn't get used to having a personal chauffeur; it's kind of awkward.

I entered the palatial car and waited for the announcement of our arrival at White Plains High School.

WPHS is the public high school in White Plains, New York that I will be attending for the next three years. Although it is a public school, class sizes average at around 200, much less than the norm of other government-run schools around the nation.

The second Isaac parked the Lexus and was holding my door open, it seemed as though all eyes traveled to me. Ah, fuck.

Keep it cool, Massie. You are an awesome-sexy-confident-elegant-charming person.

Deep breathes. Much better.

Like my mother advised last night, I went straight to the office in building two, which was easy to find, as it was the room was labeled, "office." This is easy, Massie, just walk. Breathe. Right foot, left foot. Don't trip! Watch for the ro-

Shit. I fell…on a rock. Smooth, very smooth.

I quickly got up and brushed my jeans, checking my surroundings in case someone saw. It's all good, no one seemed to notice.

Once I arrived at the office, I told the red-haired receptionist my name, who in return told me my homeroom and classroom number. "Mr. Myner, room 3-302. That's building three, floor three." I nodded gratitude and went in search of my homeroom classroom.

I walked along the pathway between buildings two and three. The unaccustomed September breeze bit at my bare arms until I reached the warmth of the building entrance. I located the room easily but hesitated before I opened the door. I looked at my watch, which read "7:56." Was everyone already in there, or were they not going to show up for another three minutes?

I inhaled deeply and opened the door. A man, Mr. Myner, was lounging in a chair at the teacher's desk on his white MacBook. A few students lolled around the class, either in chairs or scattered throughout the room, patiently waiting for class to start. When I opened the door, they all glanced at me, some longer than others.

I sat down at an empty desk. A girl, sitting two desks to my right, stood, picked up her backpack from the linoleum floors, and moved to the desk next to mine. She had glossy raven hair and brown eyes, adorned with long eyelashes. He red pouty lips were curled in an amicable smile. "Hey, I'm Alicia Rivera," she smiled warmheartedly. "It's always nice to have a friend on the first day. So, where are you from?" she asked once situated in her new seat.

"Well, I was born in Toronto, but I moved to Barcelona when I was seven. And now, I live here," I responded matter-of-factly.

"No way! My parent's are both from Spain. I go there practically every summer."

"Really? So you know Spanish?"

"_Sí, ¿y tú?" _Alicia said in a skillful Spanish accent.

"_Sí. _It's nice to have someone to talk to."

Two friends.

-d-

Mr. Myner handed out schedules and led us to the sophomore lockers. After giving locker assignments to each student, he informed us that it was time for first period. For me, that was Chemistry Honors in room 2-104. I jogged to the second building, only to be lost in the vast hallway. I didn't know where the hell I was.

As I turned my head around, I bumped into someone. "I'm so sorry," I said as I picked up my fallen binder. The girl had a familiar head of dirty-blonde hair. "Kristen?" The girl looked up and smiled.

"Hey!" she said, brushing off her jeans. She looked at my confused face, examining the hallway and my schedule. "Are you lost?" she asked knowingly.

"Yeah," I admitted sheepishly. "I'm looking for room 2-104. It's the chemistry lab."

"I'm actually going there right now! Come, follow me," she instructed.

-d-

_-la hora del almuerzo-_

I pushed open the frosted doors to WPHS's illuminated cafeteria. For the third time today, all eyes landed on me. As I successfully walked through the crowded tables, I heard the murmur of rumors being spread, some as outrageous as, "I heard she's a supermodel who just wants to live a normal life," and "she's an undercover secret agent." Seriously, guys? That's the best you can up with? Seriously?

I sat down at a table by myself, not really caring that people were giving me weird looks. I removed the avocado sandwich Inez made me from my lunch bag. I began eating the sandwich, only to be interrupted by a dark-haired boy, who sat down in the seat next to mine.

He just sat there, staring at me creepily. He smiled, mischief visible through his mismatched eyes.

Audaciously, I spoke: "Can I help you?"

"You're that girl who fell this morning, right?"

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**Want to get a shout out (like the ones in the beginning) in the next chapter? All you need to do is review!**


	3. three

**Don't hate me, okay? :x I just haven't had the time to write. But I forced myself to and I'm really proud I did ;D**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! (Believe(dot)in(dot)Faith, dreams of evermore, Maeve, jasminacha, and Lost in the Starlight) **

**Dedicated to All Time Low, for being there for me whenever I need them.**

**And Riley ;)**

"_Should I write myself out of the history books/ And mark a place in time for every chance you took?"_

-"Coffee Shop Soundtrack" All Time Low

"I don't know what you're talking about," I lied. My eyes danced around the cafeteria, landing everywhere but his effulgent, knowing gaze. He saw me fall this morning. _Shitshitshit._

"Oh, no, I think you do," he nodded his head knowingly.

I played with my hands. I shifted anxiously. I perceived that my sudden movements were making it seem like I was hiding something…which I was. I placed my hands on my lap decorously. I looked at my suddenly unappetizing avocado sandwich and back at him. I continued to play dumb. "No idea."

"Whatever you say. I'm Cam by the way." His gaze lingered to the green table. "Hey, are you going to eat that?" he asked, pointing to my sandwich.

I gave him a weird look. He is so strange. Slightly hot, but strange nonetheless. I nudged the plate in his direction.

"Thanks." He took a bite the size of Africa from the uneaten end, but suddenly looked at me with a disgusted look. "What is this?" he asked with his mouth open, flashing me with chewed avocado and bread. I crinkled my nose in disgust for his poor manners.

"Avocado."

"…This isn't ham?"

I blinked at him. "As I'm assuming you know, ham is not green. Whatever you thought this substance was, it's clearly green. How the hell could it be ham?"

"I don't really know… Hey, don't hate on words that rhyme with 'Cam!'" he warned.

"Do people call you Cammie?" I asked purposely, knowing that it will irk him. He seems like someone who is easily irked.

His blue eye twitched. "I'm leaving because you're mean. Goodbye," he said in a serious tone. He stood up and walked to another table, but only to turn around and come back to my table.

"Oh, how rude of me. Your name?"

I scrutinized his face before responding. "Massie."

"'Kay, see you, Assie," he said with a smirk.

-d-

Once lunch ended, I cleaned my table and went in search of my next class. As I walked from building two to one, I saw two blonde girls, both with fantastic figures and lustrous hair. One, with buttery blonde waves, was flaunting the newest Marc Jacobs tote. I quickly jogged closer to them in order to get a better view of the suede bag. As if she smelled me, she stopped and turned on her heel. I casually looked at my schedule and kept walking.

Awkward situation dodged.

"Hey, you! You new?"

I stopped in my tracks and slowly turned around. Her navy blue eyes bore into my wide, amber ones. "Me? Yeah…"

"Welcome," she smiled smugly. "I'm Olivia. This is Skye," she said as she gestured to her other blonde comrade.

"I'm Massie," I said, suddenly remembering my interest in Olivia. "I like your bag. Is it the new Marc Jacobs?"

"Of course. I like your shoes! So vintage," she announced as she pointed to my black oxfords. "Walk with us." The two began walking and motioned me to follow.

If I thought I got a lot of attention when I first walked in, this was about triple the stares and murmurs. Who were these girls? People were gawking as if Jesus was walking in their presence. Close your mouths, students of WPHS.

Olivia blatantly smirked at the attention, which the officious bitch of WPHS seemed to enjoy. She seemed impervious to the ululations and cries of horror that sounded as she walked. Girls would hide their faces in their lockers in order to prevent an inevitable confrontation with Olivia. She chose to listen to the rare few that complimented her. She definitely had some sort of reputation here. I need to find this out.

"Massie, you should sit with us in lunch tomorrow," Olivia said casually as she examined her cuticles.

"Um…" I paused and stared at my surroundings. People were still staring, waiting anxiously for my response. "I'll see what I can do."

-d-

Upon entering the WPHS cafeteria, I met up with Alicia and Kristen.

"Hey, Massie. Want to sit with us?" Kristen asked amiably.

I peered through the crack in the door. Olivia, Skye, and another girl whom I did not recognize were seated in a rectangular table in the center of the eating establishment. I turned back and told them I couldn't, much to their newly sparked curiosity.

"Ooh, who are you sitting with?" Alicia asked, her eyes alight with interest.

"Just some girls I met yesterday." Their faces urged me on. "Olivia and Skye."

"WHAT?" they both shouted in disbelief.

"You made a date with the devil?" and "Are you fucking insane?" were also heard through my nearly shattered eardrums.

"May I ask what's so bad about them?" I asked, obviously confused.

Kristen paused and thought out her answer. "Imagine a vulture and Satan had a child. That child would be Olivia Ryan."

"Kris, don't forget her minions!" Alicia interjected.

"Oh, yes. Skye Hamilton. Who knew so much evil could be packed in such a toned, sinewy body? She is a dancer, and her parents own the Body Alive dance studio in downtown White Plains. Lets just say, her parents make more in a month than mine do in a year.

"And Layne Abeley, the hippie slut. Her fervor about protesting about animal abuse and solar energy is real, but at the end of the day, she'll jump into the arms of just about any waiting, testosterone-filled male."

"Eep! Best idea ever! You should go sit with them." I raised my right eyebrow at Alicia's sudden epiphany.

"Why? A minute ago you were calling me insane, as if I was writing my own death certificate. Now this?"

"This is all for my evil purposes. Go, befriend them. Get some juicy info out of Olivia, and report back to us, everyday, until we get enough to take those bitches down."

I considered the plan. "I'm in."

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**If anyone can guess where this story is going or what inspired me, I will give them a super special shout out next chapter!**

**You know the deal: review and get a shout out next chapter!**


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